beaded Christmas tree

a color study at 11 pm

red: sunsets when the sky is filled with smoke of a nearby fire. the dull glow of the wood & coals after a campfire. the full moon at 2 am while driving home from the city. the smell of cinnamon pinecones when you walk into a craft store at halloween. the changing colors of the trees during the fall. flannels & oversized jumpers. coffeeshops. winter. fall. the rebirth that follows destruction.

orange: fruit smoothies. lazy afternoons. freckled skin. waking up to the sunlight peering through your window. singing circles & new friendships. the transition between summer and fall. high school graduation. the feeling of intertwined fingers. picnics with old friends and new ones alike. that brief period of time in which craft stores have both christmas and halloween decorations out for sale. pressed flowers. bulletin board memories. faded polaroids and pastel colors. beaches. sunsets. the end of an era, and the dawn of a new day.

yellow: the feeling of sun on your skin when you step out of an air conditioned building. sunflowers. strawberry farms. laughter. counting down the seconds to midnight on new years eve. weathered paper & old letters. the handwriting of your grandparents. spring. summer. optimism. the idea that everything will turn out pretty okay in the end.

green: earth. the kind of forests you could get lost in and still feel at home in. electricity. guitars and ukuleles. growth. understanding. life. the feeling of the breeze on your neck in the late afternoon. the emptiness of a house just before you move in, and the ghosts that hide in the shadows once you move everything out again. rebirth. renewal. an experimental time.

blue: the beach after a storm. rainy days in hawaii. snow cones at back-to-school parties in elementary school. the shape of the cloud trails that airplanes sometime leave behind them. whispers against skin and gentle kisses to lips. tracing patterns softly into the other’s skin, keeping them grounded, yet letting their minds drift farther than the cosmos can contain it. the smell of the ocean in the morning. constellations in the sky and the soft glow of the crescent moon. yarn & fabric & fake flowers in craft stores. winter. summer. the sense of renewal that comes with realizing its okay to cry.

purple: the beads on the fake christmas tree we’ve had since before i was born. the shadow of the moon that i used to be scared of. the last bits of twilight reflecting off low-hanging clouds. healing bruises & faded scars. craft stores at christmas time. the sound of a piano. watching the number of people at the beach dwindle as the sun goes down. grape soda. last summer. a new start. a second chance.